


The Other Moriarty.

by glanmire



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Gen, Locked Room Plot, Suspense, Where Janine is Moriarty's sister, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glanmire/pseuds/glanmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another brown-eyed Irish character, and yet no one ever suspected that Janine was Jim's sister, the other Moriarty.<br/>Sometimes someone has to die. Now is one of those times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Molly woke from a nightmare to a cold room.  
She opened her eyes. Sherlock stood above her, facing away. John had his arms around Mary.  
Molly sat up, confused, and there was Mrs Hudson, in a heap on the ground nearby, Mycroft pacing the room, and even Greg in the corner, his face in his hands. Everyone of them was connected a Holter monitor, the kind of heart monitor with the electrodes attached to your chest.  
Molly's first instinct was to rip hers off, but the fact that no one else had done so stilled her hand. 

She didn't know where they were or how they got there. Panic grew inside her, beginning her chest and squeezing her at her lungs. She breathed in deeply, once, twice, three times.  
A familiar voice spoke from an intercom in the top corner of the room as Molly was still regulating her breaths. 

"See Sherlock the thing is, when I heard you were leaving on that unfortunate little trip, well I had to bring you back. So I got a few tapes of my brother, you know, home videos, and I made the little clip that's been floating around. Did you like it? It says 'Did You Miss Me?' and I gotta say Sherlock, I do miss him." 

Molly knew that voice. It was Janine, Mary's bridesmaid, Sherlock's ex girlfriend. She looked at Sherlock, but he had walked closer to the intercom and stared at it intently as the voice continued. 

"Your brother convinced the world you were dead, and I convinced the world that my brother was alive. See how alike our families are?  
Jim, ah he was a great older brother. Bit of a raging psycho really, but you know, family is your family. He always liked having a sister with a lot of pull in the press - sure it was no accident that I was Magnussen's PA- and well I liked that Jim was up for the craic, so to speak." 

Mycroft walked over to Sherlock and placed a hand on his shoulder silently. They stood beneath the intercom, the Holmes brother's facing the voice together, and that gesture of solidarity scared Molly more than anything Janine had said yet. 

"I've been very good Sherlock, following in my big brother's footsteps. He pretended to be Molly's boyfriend, remember Jim from IT? But I did even better, it has to be said. I was your girlfriend Sherlock." 

The room was silent. Molly wondered whether this was that all her fault, but chastened herself. She'd been through this many times in her own head. If Moriarty had fooled Sherlock, then how could anyone have expected her to see through the lie? 

"Dya remember the good ole days when everything that used to happen was actually Jim behind it all? Or so you thought, but I'm afraid there was a little problem there. Because you used to call him by our surname, Moriarty, but I'm Moriarty too sure. So the thing is, we both had our own lovely networks, and we used the family name. If things went to shit then at least they'd only chase one guy, 'cause everyone thought that there was one Moriarty. Didn't do their research, did they?  
And then you buggered off for two years and disabled my network. That wasn't very nice of you. I understand why you got rid of my brother's people, I really do. Ye had your differences, but there was no need to wipe away all my hard work as well. You couldn't tell the difference though, could you, who's was who's. 'Twas a little disappointing Sherlock, it has to be said." 

Greg wordlessly came over to Molly's side, and they waited for Janine to say what was going to happen. Because they knew- everyone knew- that something was going to happen. 

"Jim cuddled up to the lovely Kitty Riley to get in with the press. But I did better, as usual. I already had my pull in the press, admittedly at a price - thanks for offing old Charlie by the way, that cleaned quite a few slates for me. But unlike Jim, I didn't even have to sleep with anyone to make the press hate you. Well, I did sleep with you of course, but that was all an act wasn't it? I dunno, I mean we did have sex, plenty of times to be sure, but you're still a virgin. You're still The Virgin. Your body might have been into it, but the brain wasn't there.  
Well I hope the brain is there today, because here's a tricky one for you."

Molly looked at her hands. They were trembling. She looked up to the intercom again, waiting for the sentence to drop. 

"There's a gun in the room with ye there. Sherlock, John, Mary, Molly, Lestrade, Mycroft and Mrs Hudson. I'm not my brother, I didn't leave anyone out.  
Well the Holmes boys and Mary have probably figured this out already, but I'll say it for the others who mightn't be as quick on the update. There's one bullet in that gun and one exit in that room, the steel door. That door opens when somebody dies, but only one. If anyone takes off their heart monitor, or if more than one person dies, that's instant disqualification lads!  
I can hear every word you're saying. Every inch of the room is plastered in cameras. There is no way out other than the gun. Best of luck."

Janine's voice was gone again, and Molly wished she could dismiss it as another brutal nightmare, but it was not.  
Now that she looked for it, she saw the gun, ugly in this white room.

Mycroft slowly turned away from the intercom and addressed the room at large.  
"It is imperative that we all remain calm-" 

John began to roar. "Calm! She's eight months pregnant-"

Sherlock cut across them, his eyes closed.  
"Mary is the safest one of us here John," and he opened his eyes, "You're absolutely right, she is heavily pregnant. Thus, killing her would most likely kill the baby too. The rules state only one death. We would be disqualified," and he closed his eyes again, clearly finished with that line of thought.

John spluttered various curses and then managed, "That's the best reason you have for not murdering my wife? Well thank fuck for the rules or you'd have bloody well-" 

"John." Mary said, lightly touching his hand. "He doesn't mean it like that, and you know that. This is just a logic thing for him." 

The intercom cut through them all.  
"Oh yeah, by the way, ye have thirty seconds to make up your minds. Sorry I didn't mention that earlier. Oops. Ten left now. Nine-" 

"Sherlock-" several voices said at once, but they weren't volunteering him, they were just looking for reassurance, because Sherlock would know the way out, he would know the last minute answer that meant no one got hurt. 

Sherlock exchanged a look with Mycroft who nodded. He then spoke to the group. "Stay absolutely silent, no matter how scared you are, you must remain silent-" 

"Five-" 

"Sherlock-" Mrs Hudson asked, terror palpable in those two syllables. 

"Quiet!" 

Molly found herself holding Greg's hand, and it was something to grip tight to as the seconds passed and the unknown bared down on them.  
She shut her eyes, as if that would protect her. 

"One" the voice finished.

The following pause made Molly want to scream but all she knew was to stay silent, not to make a sound, not to- 

 

"Of course, that was too serious a question to answer in thirty seconds. I hadn't even said what would happen if ye didn't choose. Silence of course, was the right answer, or that time round at least. This game is fun, isn't it? Ye lot are so much fun to play with! So here's round two lads, and sorry but it's gonna get a tinny bit more deadly. Either someone dies within the next 20 minutes or I kill you all. It won't be a nice death either. The door will just stay shut 'til ye starve to death. Mycroft would be the first to go I'd say- you always did find the diets difficult, didn't you Mikey? But I digress. Someone needs to die guys. Bye bye." 

Janine stopped momentarily then added,  
"And don't try to pull that thing on me where someone pretends to be dead but really isn't. Remember, I'm better than my brother. After two hours, their Holter monitor will be retrieved and the results analysed. No one leaves the room until I get confirmation that dead guy is really dead. I also require the shot to be done through the head, just for safety's sake. John and Mary are both excellent shots, but anyone can feel free to use the gun; but if you do not kill someone, or yourself, then everyone dies.  
I know what kind of man yeh are, Sherlock. I know what you'll do."

Molly opened her eyes again. It seemed the nightmare was only beginning.


	2. Volunteer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to make a choice. 
> 
> Mary's perspective this time.

The room felt dangerous, electric.  
Mary leaned against the wall. Her belly felt heavy, like it was slowing her down. She needed to be sharp, keen, and yet the baby was dulling her senses, bloating her ankles. 

She was exempt from this little game, and she didn't like it.  
It was a relief, yes, to be the exception but it also unnerved her; these people, her friends, would have to make a choice pretty soon, and Mary was already wondering whether her exclusion would also cancel her vote. 

The concept itself was brilliant really. If they chose one and everyone else would walk free, and if they chose none and everyone would die. Were they good enough people to die for their morals?  
Mary had learned a long time ago that she was not.

John was standing perceptibly straighter, and she knew he loved this, the tension, on a subconscious level.  
Mary did not feel the same; she had left this kind of scenario behind her. Handling hostage situations had never been her forte anyway; she'd liked sniper work, long range, none of these stilted conversations or heavy silences.  
If she had ever envisaged being held hostage, then she had presumed she would fight her way out, but there was no one in this room to fight but friends, and none of them wanted to hurt her. 

Lestrade spoke first, always a pragmatist. "Do we have a plan then Sherlock?"  
It did grind Mary's nerves that everyone looked to Sherlock to save them. Mycroft was the more intelligent of the brothers, and John, herself and Greg all had more experience in the field. And yet us look to Sherlock. Sherlock will save us.

He had taken possession of the gun and was spinning it in slow circles on the floor: Mary thought absurdly that that was his brilliant solution for one moment, to spin the bottle, so to speak. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought.  
But this was not in the least way humorous. She was only exempt from this voting stage and at that only because of Sherlock's quick thinking. She would starve to death just like the rest of them though if they did not reach a conclusion. 

Mary had shot Sherlock once. She barely knew Mycroft. Mrs Hudson was kind, Molly was sweet and Greg was very useful, but she wouldn't hesitate to kill any one of them if it mean John got out.  
She eyed the gun. A year ago she wouldn't have hesitated in making a move for it.  
But circumstances had changed, and for now, she just kept her eye on it. 

A cacophony of voices were speaking over one another now that Lestrade had broken the silence.  
"There doesn't seem to be another option-"  
"We're not just going to vote on this!"  
"There's only fifteen minutes left either way, we need a plan-"  
Sherlock answered that last one. "Fifteen minutes until we lose the opportunity to vote, not fifteen minutes til our deaths. We would not die of starvation quite so fast. I myself had a fine lunch."  
Mary knew he was using deadpan humour to hide something. His brain was whirling, scrambling for a solution, and he was trying his level best to keep to everyone else calm while doing so. 

She added her voice. "Janine already messed with us once, there might be another simple solution to this one as well."  
John nodded at her, eager for this idea to be correct, "Yes, Sherlock, Mycroft, you figured it out the last time, is there-"  
Mycroft spoke over him. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that we cracked it, only that within the timeframe given, it was the best option available to us at the time."  
John blinked, but didn't let that deter him, "So any ideas for now?"  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock, who was being abnormally quiet. "None," he answered, turning away. 

Ten minutes turned to five, and the voices grew desperate. The idea of actually voting had not been raised yet, but she reckoned if anyone dared to be the first to say that they would not be shot down.  
She watched Sherlock spin the gun on the floor in slow loose circles, and it was almost soothing. But Mary was already calm. If it came to a vote, she and Sherlock would both vote to protect John. That should be enough. Mycroft would choose his brother, and John, knowing Mary was exempt, would choose to save Sherlock. That left Mrs Hudson, Molly and Lestrade, who were mainly unpredictable. It would still work out. 

With two minutes left, the room was almost unbearably tense. Janine must be in her element watching this, the little bitch.  
Sherlock finally looked up from the gun.  
"There seems to be only three possible solutions, all of which you already know. We vote on who dies, someone volunteers themselves, or we choose to abstain and understand that we will all starve to death from our unwillingness to choose." 

No one replied to his statement, as if almost afraid to draw the focus onto themselves. One minute forty three seconds left.  
"Does anyone wish to volunteer?"  
Silence. He kept spinning the gun, round and round with one finger.  
"Well would anyone like to nominate someone else then?" Sherlock asked, his voice reasonable, as if this were an ordinary conversation.  
Mary wanted to nominate someone, if only to save John, to save herself, but she could not find a name she felt comfortable with.  
Mycroft, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Molly. She did not want to condemn any of them. 

At one minute twenty five seconds Sherlock spoke again.  
"Janine, I volunteer" he said, his voice still level, and he picked up the gun, placed it against his forehead and pulled the trigger.


	3. Molly's Theory.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has a theory about triple bluffs. 
> 
> From Mycroft's perspective.

The others all shouted Sherlock's name in the proceeding moments but it wasn't like their screaming could have pulled a bullet out of his brain.   
The shouting was fruitless anyway. The gun was empty. 

For a fleeting moment Sherlock's expression was caught between shell-shock and consternation, and Mycroft thought that if anyone ever got to see the results of these heart monitors that Sherlock's would be quite a read just now. 

"Janine!" he roared, finally understanding, and there was a rather brutal fury in his voice that silenced the room again.   
The intercom came back to life from its prolonged silence.   
"Oh, did I forget to put bullets in the gun? Oops. My bad. But I'm sure you did mean to die for this sorry bunch, and sure that's what counts, right?" 

The door opened seemingly of its own accord, and Mycroft saw everyone in the room turn infinitesimally to face it. 

"Sherlock, you're free to leave. G'wan, go way with you. Anyone who has the balls to kill himself to save his friends deserves a whaddya call it, a free pass. So g'wan Sherlock. Leave. You're perfectly safe, I'm telling yeh." 

Sherlock looked at the others, almost like he was searching for their approval. Mycroft tilted his head to say, go, and Sherlock did, apologising as he went.   
He then stood just outside the door, looking lost. It was only a few feet and yet the distance seemed formidable. He was safe and they were not.   
Mycroft let a long breath out. Sherlock at least was out of this damnable room. 

"Tis simple really lads. Ye can leave, seriously. Just one of you has to stay behind, that's all. I'll emm, sort them out in my own time." 

The last words were barely spoken before Mary left the room and went to stand beside Sherlock. "Sorry," she grimaced, but no one could blame her. 

After a moment Lestrade said, "John, go on. Mary's waiting for you."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Of course we are John. You go now and make sure Mary's alright, it must've been an awful shock for her," Mrs Hudson added, and John nodded, probably grateful to be given orders. He crossed the short distance and embraced Mary. 

That left Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and Molly Hooper.   
Mycroft's priority had been getting Sherlock out. The rest was simple persuasion, perhaps coercion.  
He had understood immediately that the gun was empty from the balance in which it spun at, yet did not feel the need to share that information. He also knew Sherlock was contemplating volunteering, and Mycroft would have stopped him had he been in any real danger, but as it was, he had been perfectly safe. Mycroft had also hoped that volunteering would earn Sherlock some sort of immunity, which it thankfully did.   
Now he just had to get out himself. 

He took a breath, ready to begin subliminally convincing one of the others that they truly wished to be left behind, but Molly spoke first.   
"I'll stay here," she said, her voice only wavering slightly.   
"No Molly dear you can't-" Mrs Hudson began, but Molly cut her off, calling out, "John?"  
John had been murmuring with Mary outside the door, but looked up.   
"What?"   
"Remember when you wrote in your blog about that taxi driver, the study in pink? Sherlock, you were there, you remember. He said is this a bluff, a double bluff or a triple bluff. Well nothing happened us in round one. There was no bullet in round two. So I mean, I'll be fine here, it's probably another bluff, it's you guys that have to worry - no I don't mean it like that- I mean- just go, please," she ended lamely, but the sentiment was still there. 

Mycroft briefly considered Molly's theory, but concluded that she was only saying that so that the others would not feel guilty, although that did not mean it was not correct.  
He did not have enough information to know for sure either way, but this angle advantaged him, and he silently thanked Molly Hooper for the way out that she offered.

"I believe Molly is right about this," he said, and stared into her eyes. She understood. She was a very bright. 

"Are you sure- because I won't unless-" Lestrade mumbled ineffectively.   
"Greg" Molly said softly, "I'm sure."   
Lestrade nodded and put a hand on Mrs Hudson's shoulder, ushering her out of the room with him. 

That left Mycroft with Molly.   
He spoke to her quietly. "Molly, you understand that Janine can hear everything in this room, so even if your theory was correct, she may have changed her mind." 

She stared back at him, determined. "I'm okay. Go take care of Sherlock." 

Janine spoke over the intercom. "Whoever leaves next, if yeh could close the door on your way out, that'd be great, thanks." 

Mycroft covered the distance with quick strides, and did not look back as he crossed through the doorway. He paused, his hand on the door.   
"I am going to close the door now, if anyone-". He did not need to elaborate further. 

Support began pouring out for Molly.   
"You'll be okay Molly, we'll get you out-"   
"Oh Molly dear-"   
"It's just bluff, you'll be alright."  
"Don't worry, it'll be okay-" 

Molly let them speak for a moment and then said, "Mycroft, if you could close the door now, thanks. I'll be fine guys, I'll see you in a while." 

Mycroft closed the door and they lost their view of Molly Hooper.  
They stood outside silently for several moments, as if waiting for a sign, for proof either way, but there seemed to be a finality to the shut door, and so they left, not knowing.


End file.
